Hyacinthe St. Croix rose.
“France has her heel on Europe,” he said. “With the help of this little Prince she will have the United Provinces—” he began to pull on his fringed gloves—“I give this Government two—three years—no more.”
“There is England,” remarked Florent, still thinking of the Triple Alliance.
“England—like Sweden—may take her price,” returned St. Croix.
Florent rose too.
“The politics of this land are shaken up and down like sand tossed in the palm,” he said, as if he had suddenly roused himself. “I am in the employ of the Government, but in no way bound to any master—tell M. le Marquis de Pomponne so—as M. de Witt’s secretary I know something.…”
“How much?” asked St. Croix, lacing his gloves.
Florent answered steadily—
“I know that M. de Witt is afraid.”
“Of France—of England?”